Amor Non Mutuus
by Obelisk of Light
Summary: Amor Non Mutuus is Latin for Unrequited Love. This is the story of the tragic love life of Merope Gaunt, Voldemort's mother. It is told in first person. Merope tries to make Tom Riddle Sr. to fall in love with her. Full warnings inside.


**Amor Non Mutuus **

**Warnings: This fan fiction contains abuse, dubious consent, sexual situations, minor character death, profanities and a possible reference to abortion. If you are uncomfortable with such content, please do NOT read any further.** **The story is rated 'R' (not 'NC-17'). **

The MPAA ratings are mentioned for reference only; no copyright infringement is intended.

Rating: Professors/M

Summary: "Amor Non Mutuus" is Latin for "Unrequited Love".

This is the story of the tragic love life of Merope Gaunt, Voldemort's mother. It is told in first person from Merope's point of view. She has deep feelings for Tom Riddle Senior, the son of the village squire; and tries to make him fall in love with her. However, Merope learns the hard way that a "love" potion can create only a powerful obsession, not love.

**This story has been validated at MuggleNet Fan Fiction. It was submitted under the 'Other Pairing' category.**

Author's notes: "Fortis Amor" is Latin for "Strong Love".

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. I am not associated with J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and any other organisations that own Harry Potter names, characters, elements, etc.

One-shot

I was standing just outside the group of trees that surrounded my house. It had been two days since my father and brother were carted off to Azkaban. Perhaps they were convicted soon after, but I had no sure way of knowing.

This thought raised my spirits a little. I had fallen in love with a rich Muggle man named Tom Riddle, though I was quite sure that he had never seen me. Why would he ever bother to glance at me when he already had the beautiful woman of his dreams?

I was not born free. It was hell, living with Father and Morfin. My mother had died while giving birth to me. My father, Marvolo Gaunt, treated me as though I was a slave. As for Morfin, he always took the chance to demean me. We lived in a three-room cottage in abject poverty. My only consolation was that I was allowed to keep a family heirloom – Salazar Slytherin's locket. Of course, Father used to brag about it at the slightest opportunity.

It was not easy to recall my distressing memories. I felt tears growing in my eyes as I shielded them from the bright summer afternoon sun.

I looked at a water bottle I had brought, along with an old bag in which I had stored my few possessions. I had prepared Fortis Amor that was a love potion whose effects would last for approximately eight hours. It was nothing compared to Amortentia, of course, for the ingredients used in the preparation of it were far beyond my means.

I had heard that Tom Riddle was returning to Little Hangleton from a long journey on horseback. I was secretly hoping that he would be thirsty, for it would make things extremely easy for me.

Suddenly, I heard the unmistakeable sounds of a horse walking towards where I was standing. Looking to my right, I saw a man riding a glossy chestnut horse. As he and the horse drew closer, making a distinct jingling and clopping sound, my heart leapt. It was a familiar, handsome young man with black hair – Tom Riddle himself. He was wearing a shirt and trousers.

A few feet away from me, he dismounted. I could see beads of sweat on his face and dry lips; he was thirsty.

"You look thirsty. Do you need water?" I asked in a hesitant manner, my heart beating wildly.

He was looking at my ragged robes with suspicion. His eyes rested for a moment on Salazar Slytherin's locket (I was wearing it around my neck). Was he thinking that I was a thief?

"Do you need water?" I repeated. His suspicions seemed to increase.

"What is your name?" asked Tom.

"Merope Gaunt," I said. Immediately, I regretted it. I was tactless. Of course, he would have heard of the name Gaunt – there were many stories about Morfin in Little Hangleton.

"Related to the tramp, Gaunt?"

"No," I said, making a decision in under a second. "I have not heard of the Gaunt you refer to. Who is he?"

Luckily, Tom did not see through my amateurish play-acting. A brief expression of relief seemed to show on his face. He coughed.

"Here, drink water," I said, handing over the bottle; doing my best to keep a neutral expression. At last, my plan was working.

Tom drank a little water from the bottle, and swallowed it. I waited anxiously – the potion would take effect within a few minutes. He had finished half of the water, when I saw his eyes stray on to me. He was looking at me in a whole new light. There was something in Tom's eyes – not suspicion, but a mixture of lust and love. He closed the bottle quickly and gave it back to me.

"Merope," he whispered. "I think I love you."

My heart leapt, even though I knew that it was the effect of the potion.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met," he said.

No other man would have said that to me. I felt slightly guilty, for I knew that under normal circumstances, those words would not have been directed towards me.

"Wait here," I said, and turned to go towards my house. I walked swiftly through the narrow pathway, still amazed by the success of my plan. In no time, I had reached the cottage. The dead snake was still hanging from the door. I took a deep breath, and opened it. I stepped inside and took in the surroundings of this terrible house for the last time. The walls of stone were old, weathered and filthy. The moth-eaten sofa faced the blackened fireplace. A dead adder was there, no doubt the same one that Morfin was playing with two days ago. I looked at the corner beside the now shut window where I used to cook – and get abused with the filthiest of words by my father and taunted by my brother. From there, I used to steal glances at Tom, whenever fate permitted.

I took a note out from my bag and placed it on the dirty table. It was a note of farewell to my father, to this house … to the abusive childhood that I had led for eighteen years. I turned, and walked back to where Tom was standing. He was staring at my lifeless, dull hair.

"Tom, we have to go to Great Hangleton," I said.

"No need," said Tom airily. "We can stay at my parents' place in Little Hangleton."

"You parents may not like it," I said quietly, even though I did not know much about his parents. However, I was certain that they would suspect _something._ I was afraid as I repeated, "We have to go to Great Hangleton. It will be the best for both of us."

He climbed onto the horse, and I followed suit. I held on to him tightly as we rode to Great Hangleton.

* * *

One month later, before I knew it, we were married and had settled down in a little house in Great Hangleton. I did not have the courage to abandon the use of the love potion. I was mixing a little of the love potion with Tom's food twice a day. My conscience told me to stop, but I did not heed to it.

It was late in the night. My eyes were fixed on the roaring fire-place. Tom was sitting beside me on the bed in our modest bedroom. He was not looking at me, even though he was still under the influence of Fortis Amor. His nightshirt was open. I was looking at him without realising it for some time.

Whenever I was not thinking about abandoning the love potion, my thoughts were of a carnal nature. We had not made love to each other yet; mainly because of my guilt. If Tom did have sex with me under the influence of the love potion, then it would not be appropriate. Another voice in my head spoke up, saying that I was married to him after all; and there was no point in holding back.

I felt Tom's hand caress my hair. It sent shivers throughout my body. When I turned to looked at him, I saw lust in his eyes.

"Do you not think it is time we took our relationship further?" asked Tom.

That was the final straw for me. His voice and words had blown me over. I nodded, and he kissed me deeply, battling with my tongue. He broke the kiss to take off my nightgown. I took his clothing off and fumbled a little with his boxers. Eventually, they landed on the floor.

We made love after the briefest of foreplays.

* * *

Two months passed this way. I was still feeling guilty about the fact that Tom was under the influence of Fortis Amor. It was my fault. Despite the fact that my economic conditions had improved, the potion was bound to run out.

I was making breakfast on a cloudy morning. My mind was brooding over the love potion which had made me foster a guilty conscience, despite giving me moments of pleasure that were carnal. I made the decision not to mix Fortis Amor with my husband's food today. Instead, I did something else. I put a few drops of the antidote to his bacon.

As I walked to the kitchen table, I knew that I had taken the right decision. Tom had to stay, at least for my unborn child's sake. I was sure that he had true feelings for me by now, just as I loved him.

I set down the bacon in front of Tom. He smiled fondly at me. I returned the smile only half-heartedly. He ate his breakfast quickly, and swallowed. I gulped in apprehension; watching his face warily. My hand went to my wand almost unconsciously.

The smile on Tom's face had faded. His eyes were narrowed. He was glaring murderously at me. He got up at once.

"You fucking witch," said Tom coldly, "you used me in order to satisfy some pathetic desire of yours. Enchanting me in some damn foolish way and having no second thoughts about it," he took a deep breath after saying this. I tightened the grip on my wand.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" bellowed Tom, and if I was not fast enough, he would have strangled me. I raised my wand and pointed it at him.

Tom backed away cautiously, and said, "Goodbye," in a voice of forced calm. I lowered my wand. He went to our bedroom and packed his belongings in a trunk. Tears flew down my face even as I waited. I knew that he would never speak to me again.

In a matter of minutes, Tom left the house and mounted his faithful horse. He spoke a few words, and the horse sped up.

"Tom!" I called, even though I knew that it was in vain. The cloudy sky was echoing my mood.

The realisation that I had lost the only man I had ever loved hit me, and I broke down, sobs wracking my body. I touched my stomach. The child which would have once increased my joy was now an impossible burden to bear. But it was too late to make a choice about the baby's life.

THE END


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